Assassin's Creed: Kindred
by ThSamurai
Summary: I always thought I was someone who was ordinary; another amongst a crowd. Until I was taken by those I would soon come to call my enemies, the Templars. I must learn about my ancestor; Cecilia Vallen. About the secrets she possessed, and of her life…as an Assassin. (takes place between AC: Brotherhood and AC: Revelations)
1. Chapter 1

This was co-written with MissRedZelda

Well its been a while and one identity crisis later (why did I start a My Little Pony story?), but we're back on track! Over the past few months I've recently gotten into Assassin's Creed in a big way. I mean I may have gotten the Assassin's crest tattooed on my chest, but I'm pretty sure I have it under control. Anyway, fellow FF writer MissRedZelda and I have been working on this plot for a while and finally we've got some stuff to post. Hope you all like it!

* * *

Chapter One

_The aftermath was a wash of blood. There was almost no distinction between what was once a humble French countryside to what was now a wounded battleground. Smoke rose into the air and the wind smelled of cleaved flesh and bone. The circling buzzards knew that their finest meal had long been served; they need only have waited for those that remained to take their leave. Everywhere one could step, there laid the casualties of both sides. Yet the numbers on both sides were still minute compared to that of conventionally sized armies; this was a battle fought between families._

_ A lone combatant steadily walked toward a fallen figure. He staggered slightly. He kept a hand close to his side, trying to dull the pain of a fresh injury. Closer he drew to the form of the weathered warrior, and with every step the lamentation in his eyes grew. There was a long blade attached to his arm, which he retracted with a simple flick of the wrist. As soon as he was but another step away from the figure, he dropped to his knees and paused._

_ "Mia figlia (my daughter)….," his voice was low and carried deep sorrow. "….How could I have failed you so….?"_

_ Then came a sudden darkening of the skies; the air around them grew restless and began swirling about continuously. The world around them shook, as though a great storm was showing its wrath. At once the ground ripped like shattering ice, engulfing all around it. The visage of the pair tore away with the rest of the world. Nothing could be seen in its entirety. All was chaotic and free of order. The slightest attempt to grasp anything mortal only resulted in more tumult. _

_ "This is how you would live?!" The voice was astonished, terrified even. "You would die and no one would ever know you existed!"_

_ "No…__**we**__ shall never die…"_

_ At once the great storm that was their world engulfed everything, and all was turned to blinding light-_

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The young teenager was suddenly roused from her slumber, as well as her chaotic dream, once again that morning. The snooze function on her alarm nearly begged for a reprieve. Her dreary eyes looked about aimlessly, trying to track the source of the sound. She blindly reached about until her hand found the alarm and switched it off. Silence replaced the alarm's shrill shriek. As she lay there, she tried to make sense of the performance her subconscious had put on for her. However, like most dreams, its very image had already begun to leave her memory. She soon found that she had no choice but to accept that morning had indeed reared is early head, and it was now time to rise.

The irritated voice of a woman then called up from downstairs, "Cadence! You need to get up. Breakfast's getting cold."

"I know mum," she quietly groaned. "I heard you first…..thirty thousand times…" Her alarm switched off, and her mother momentarily ignored, Cadence rolled over and began drifted back off. It was not a difficult thing to do. London weather was cold this time a year, making a toasty bed the closest of friend; soft and war-

"CADENCE!"

Uttering a growl that would have turned a Kodiak green with envy, Cadence tossed aside her comforter and creakily sat up off the edge of the bed. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned considerably. She did not walk so much as shuffled across the floor to her closet, picking through her clothes for the day. First, a choice of threads, then a shower and finally a bit of makeup. It was a simple regiment, and one that she sometimes proudly stated that she could now almost perform while still asleep.

Cadence Bennet was a thin lovely young lady, currently finishing her third year of high school. Her brown hair never needed much tending but it did take a few brush strokes to get it to its customary smoothness. One would never call her a grumpy person, yet it would be clear very early on that she was not what some would call a "morning person."

Having quickly hopped in and out of the shower, Cadence was soon making her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the table, reading the paper with her coffee sitting carefully in a saucer beside her. Lenore Bennet was a very tidy woman who aged gracefully. There was not a single grey strand on her head, and her brown eyes were very warm and inviting. One look about any room of the house and one could easily see how incredibly organized she was. Everything possessed a proper place, and if it were a document there was a tab and a footnote for it.

Cadence swiftly walked by her mother, giving her a quick hug from behind as she passed.

"Morning mum."

"Morning dear. Now yer gonna have to scarf those eggs I'm afraid, if you want to catch your bus."

"I know mum, overslept," said Cadence absently as she drew items for a lunch from the cupboard. "Sorry…"

Her mother shrugged, "I'm not mad, just means you have less time to do hardly anything at all and-and! You had better be making yourself a sandwich as well; a banana and crisps is not a lunch."

"That's what the café is for," she replied tiresomely.

Cadence's mother rubbed her brow. "You don't have any more money on your card, make a damn sandwich."

"Okay!" Said Cadence through gritted teeth.

"Good, now when were you getting back today?"

"Not till about nine, we're going straight there."

Lenore nodded, the memory returning to her. "Right, your class trip to Abstergo. Pay attention while you're there, there's more to that place than just apothecaries." Cadence nodded silently. "Job fairs aren't just sideshows, they're meant to be taken advantage of."

"I know what you mean," said Cadence as she sat down before her room temperature eggs. "I can always use a reprieve from maths."

"Cadence," her mother said while holding her coffee cup close to her mouth.

"Alright, alright…I'll scout for something. Although I can't see what a pharmaceutical company could offer me." She stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth; her coffee was not far behind.

Lenore smiled with an enthusiastic nod. "That's the fun of it, you never know!"

Cadence and Lenore exchanged somewhat awkward smiles. Cadence shook her head and gulped down some more of her eggs.

"So, what kept you from early rising this morning," Lenore continued.

"Oh its nothing, just didn't feeling like getting up." She said with a fake chortle. She looked at her mother again and saw that Lenore was simply staring at her while she slowly stirred her coffee. "Nothing….too rambunctious."

"Dreams again?" Her mother asked. Cadence rolled her eyes and began chopping at her eggs. "You can't just pretend like I don't hear you thumping about in your sleep. Honestly, I'm surprised the neighbors haven't complained yet." Cadence set her fork upon her plate with a bit of 'attitude' and sat back in her chair. For a moment it appeared as though her "denial shields" may still be up, but her shoulders soon settled and she let her palms rest on her legs.

"You know I've had bad dreams before; loads of them. But this…mum I've ever had anything like these before."

Her mother nodded, "What happened?" Her voice was steady, probing.

Cadence shook her head. "I don't know. Its gets clearer every time and yet it makes less and less sense. It's….It's as though I'm watching someone else's life; someone close…"

Lenore looked intently at Cadence, as though hoping more would come from her daughter. However, as Cadence thought more about it the more she decided she might be giving something as innocuous as a dream far too much attention.

"Like I said, mum, it's probably nothing."

Lenore nodded, looking oddly relieved. "Well, do be careful talking about this in the future." Cadence regarded her mother oddly. For a long moment, her mother merely kept a steely gaze; then Lenore broadly smiled. "Your story may attract some supernatural entrepreneur!"

This time Cadence legitimately laughed. "Sure, mum. Ohhhh," she sighed glancing at her watch. "Gotta go." She stepped behind the kitchen counter for her backpack.

"Oh! Your toast."

"Gotf it!" The toasted piece of bread was clenched between Cadence's teeth when she rounded the corner again. She slung her pack on her back and trotted toward the door. "Fye Mum!" She said through a full mouth.

"Bye dear!-Oh and take an umbrella, the man says it's gonna-"

SLAM

"Hmm…..rain…"

Cadence nearly skipped down the small flight of steps leading down to the sidewalk. The street beside their tall and skinny building was awash with activity; cars, cabs and buses drove by in either direction. The clouds were indeed thick but no rain was falling as of yet. She had only a moment to check her smart phone before resuming her course to the nearest bus station. Though she and her mother had lived in a more rural part of England, they found Southfields to be a very nice place to resettle.

Cadence drew nearer to the bus station and immediately spotted her neighbor and best friend already waiting and furiously texting on her phone. Cadence quickened her pace and began waving.

"Holly!"

Holly looked away from her phone and smiled. "Hey!" Cadence met Holly a few weeks after she and her mother had moved in. Lenore had grown tired of Cadence loafing about the house and insisted that she knock on a few doors and introduce herself. Along the way she acquainted herself with a couple from Kenya, a lady actually possessing thirty cats and an old gentleman who was under the impression that he was still a double agent for the S.A.S. Finally, however, she arrived at Holly's house. Holly was always a jovial soul and very much enjoyed socializing. She was a red head, about Cadence's height and dark green eyes. After Cadence timidly explained herself, Holly immediately invited Cadence in and the rest was history.

Holly still typed vigorously on her phone. "You uhh…you fancy a breakfast sandwich?"

Cadence shook her head. "Naa, I ate. Not much but it does the tri-" Her voice trailed off when she noticed what Holly was doing. "Oh my God! Y-You're really posting that?!"

"Course I am," said Holly with a smirk. "Who wouldn't relish seeing you in a funny hat?"

Cadence made a grab for it but Holly kept it out of reach. "Erase it!"

"Can't now, it's in cyberspace." Their bus finally pulled up and began disembarking passengers.

Cadence narrowed her eyes and pointed a warning finger at her friend. The two of them stepped on and found a couple of seats near the rear of the bus. As though having been conditioned to do so at every free moment, they both once again checked social status updates. Cadence was already dreading the fallout of Holly's latest post.

"You see how many likes it's already got?" asked Holly. "You might consider a change to your wardrobe."

Cadence folded her arms. "Oh shut up."

"Alright, I'll take it down if it'll make you nice again. Just a bit of fun."

Cadence shook her head and looked out of her window. "Sorry, it's not really that."

"Oh?" Holly stowed away her phone. "Something wrong?"

Cadence lowered her eyes a bit. Her fingers intertwined with themselves. The more Cadence remained silent the more Holly grew concerned.

"Okay, seriously…..I'm starting to worry."

"It's….well it's probably nothing really." Holly held her gaze, unconvinced. The talk Cadence had had with her mother, though finished, had not lost any of its potency. Cadence shook her head and faced Holly. "I don't know…I…I feel like something's off."

"Off," repeated Holly, trying to understand.

"I've been having this crazy dream for a little while now, each time it gets more intense. There's a man and a young figure, one of them is dying I think…" Holly continued to gaze and listen. "Everything then blows up into some kind of cosmic mess….what do you think it means?"

Holly shifted her eyes about for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders. "Too much telly?" Cadence sighed and looked back out of her window. Holly's face fell somewhat. She simply couldn't see what was troubling her friend.

"I'm kinda hoping you're right."

"Maybe you ought to write this dream of yours down," Holly suggested.

Cadence shrugged, "And then what? Am I supposed to meditate on it or something?"

"Well it seems like 'nothing' isn't really getting you anywhere." Cadence nodded offhandedly. "I don't know, Cadence. I guess I'm suggesting that you try **something**; keeping these kinds of things to yourself, historically not healthy."

Cadence smiled. "Thanks, I'll think of something."

Soon they arrived at their destination for the day. It was a very large and imposing office building surrounded by a tall yet ornately decorated iron fence. Abstergo Industries had always been quite the enigmatic entity, despite its name having long ago invaded every home in the civilized world. Everyone craned for a look outside their windows. Cadence sank back somewhat in her chair so that Holly could move over for a look of her own. They watched a man from the gate house approached the bus driver's window. He stood there for a moment; authenticating the day pass he'd been handed. Once the guard was satisfied he stepped back and motioned for the driver to continue. As they slowly drove by Cadence and Holly noticed other guards scattered about the grounds; some talked amongst themselves while others stood alone and holding rather intimidating rifles.

"Those are big," said Holly.

Cadence shrugged. "But necessary…I guess."

The bus came to a halt outside the main entrance with a short bump. One by one they stepped off the bus and formed a small crowd before the doorway. Cadence and Holly kept their bags with them and let their eyes roam over the enormous building and beautifully kept grounds.

"Think we'll need one of those fancy passes to get out?" asked Cadence.

Holly chuckled. "Hehe, let's hope not."

At once the doors slid open and everyone silenced. A small group of employees, some wearing lab coats and some in business suits, stepped out to meet them. One was an aged man with a white beard. He beamed at all of them and then spread his arms.

"Good day and welcome everyone! We don't open our doors like this often but when we do we do so with pure excitement! Soon you'll be introduced to some of the greatest endeavors in medicine and science and hopefully…." He cast his eyes about the entire group. "A bright future."

Cadence smiled at his over-dramatization.

"I am Dr. Warren Vidic, and allow me to welcome you to Abstergo!"

* * *

Alright, so what did you guys think? Any comments or "constructive criticism"? Now we know not much happens in this first chapter but what we're doing is solving something that I kind of had a problem with in the first game. In AC1, things just start happening out of nowhere without warning. Nothing is set up or explained until a third of the way in. Whatever, this is a written story so more has to be told in the beginning. So bear with us, it always picks up. ;-) Hope you all liked it! See ya next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

This was co-written with MissRedZelda

Okay, so its been a little while but we have a nice big new chapter for yall to enjoy, which we hope you will. Anyway, let us know what you think please. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two

At once the doors slid open and everyone silenced. A small group of employees, some wearing lab coats and some in business suits, stepped out to meet them. One was an aged man with a white beard. He beamed at all of them and then spread his arms.

"Good day and welcome everyone! We don't open our doors like this often but when we do we do so with pure excitement! Soon you'll be introduced to some of the greatest endeavors in medicine and science and hopefully…." He cast his eyes about the entire group. "A bright future."

Cadence smiled at his over-dramatization.

"I am Dr. Warren Vidic, and allow me to welcome you to Abstergo!"

Holly bent close and whispered, "Nobody sees the Wizard! Not no way not no how!"

Cadence held in a sputter of laughter and lightly nudged against Holly. They, along with the rest of the small crowd, slowly walked inside and followed two interns down a hallway. Vidic beamed and waved at them all as they passed and then quietly took his leave in a nearby elevator.

The air was rather thin and slightly chilled, much like any office atmosphere. However, on the whole Abstergo was a splendor to observe inside. Blending almost seamlessly with the business centered furniture were a number of modern art sculptures. The upper floors were easily visible as each one circled around the main lobby. The sheer amount of white encompassing the whole of the lobby made it sometimes difficult to tell where the walls began and ended. What appeared as innocent unassuming panes of glass revealed themselves to be the latest in micro-luminescent displays with brilliant crystal clear footage.

Both Cadence and Holly stood mesmerized by the spectacular displays. Cadence smiled up at one of them.

"I want one."

"Come on," said Holly, pulling Cadence along.

"Abstergo is one of the foremost leaders in urban technology and pharmaceuticals," one intern explained. She nearly swooned over the very ground she walked upon. "Many MIT graduates have contributed to this company in ways they could barely have envisioned. And of course there is Abstergo's constant zeal for the advancement of medicine. A cure for the common cold is one of our…"pipe dreams," I suppose you could say."

"But doesn't the nature of a rhino virus make that….kind of impossible?" questioned one of the guests.

The intern smiled to herself, then turned to the guest. "Nothing is impossible, not with the proper _understanding_."The guest looked between his friends a bit curiously, but he was no less silenced. "Now, if you will all follow me please." The intern led them on and through a set of doors which required authentication from the ID around her neck. Cadence could not help but feel just a little excited by this. After all, it was not just any door; it was a **Security Door**! As they entered they say dozens upon dozens of groups engaged in various tasks and hunched over machines and laptops.

"This is our first of several levels of R&D. The upper levels are still very much hush-hush I'm afraid, but we were hoping a small glimpse at what we engage in might whet your professional appetite." The group turned their large eyes away from the activity and to their guide. She smiled around at each of them expectantly and they gestured for them to spread out. "Well go on then!" she chuckled. Like a team having settled on a play, the tour group dispersed amongst the tables.

Cadence stood looking up and down a holographic projection of a double helix. She glanced at the technician working at his laptop. She bit her lower lip in anticipation and cleared her throat.

"Sooo, what're you doing?"

"Trying to increase the efficiency of this rabies vaccine," he answered a bit distantly. "The vaccine has a small failure percentage; this isometric model allows me to track my progress in real time."

"Coolio," smirked Cadence still staring at it.

"Hey!Cadence!" Holly suddenly appeared behind her and grabbed her arm, giving her a start. "Come over here!" Holly yanked her over to yet another technological marvel.

-AAA-

Vidic swiftly walked down a hallway in the upper levels and passed through a few security checkpoints. Soon he found himself in a room with dozens of monitors. Three men sat before them, monitoring what was being displayed. The screens presented them with an Orwellian view of the entire complex, namely the location of the tour group. Vidic swiftly checked his wrist watch then turned his attention back to the monitors.

"Happy hunting?" someone asked as they entered the room. He wore a neatly kept suit which was a shade of black that starkly contrasted Vidic's slightly lighter suit.

Vidic shot him a sideways glance. "This is an important step in the selection process;ever since our enemies have become more thickly veiled than ever."

"I think you overestimate them, Warren. They've been reduced to small, barely functioning, sleeper cells. At such a juncture, would anything they could possibly do make a difference?"

Vidic kept his steely eyes on the screens. "If it is one thing that has kept our Order alive and powerful it is has been our constant vigilance' of every**thing**…." A program began studying and mapping everybody's face as they appeared on screen. "…And every**one**." Once each map was completed, the computer stored it away for later use. Among the last to be permanently marked by Abstergo were Cadence and Holly. "We need to be prepared for anything."

-AAA-

Holly tapped her fingers in thin air, allowing for the projected holo-keyboard to detect her finger movements and record them in a word document; "Omni-Light" it was called.

"I could really get used to this," she mumbled.

Cadence, meanwhile, was absorbed in assisting a technician with her experiment. Two leads were attached to both of Cadence's temples which led to a laptop. Before her was a highly skeletal robotic arm. It moved erratically as Cadence stared at it with squinting eyes.

"It doesn't seem to be working," said Cadence.

"Well don't feel bad, it's like any new limb…..it takes a while to move."

"I'll say," said Cadence with slight irritation.

"Alright everyone!" The sound of the tour guide's voice suddenly rang throughout the room. "It's time to make our way back downstairs for today's job fair. We encourage all of you to take some time to get to know our staff and hopefully you will have some interest in joining our little 'family'. Any additional information can be found at our website, if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask me!"

-AAA-

The thunder boomed outside the Bennet's home. The rain pounded against Cadence's bedroom window like thousands of tiny hammers. As they day moved to night the air turned from cold to wet. Just as she had told her mother, Cadence arrived back home later that evening and after dinner set to routine school work. She presently sat cross-legged in the middle of her room with her netbook and a series of papers splayed before her. Her hand tried working some stiffness out of the back of her neck and when that failed she stretch both her arms up above her head. Her hands had become slightly cramped as well; hours of endless writing did have the rather annoying trait of soreness.

"Cadence," her mother called.

"What?" answered Cadence.

"Help me move some trunks," her mother's voice was slightly strained; she was already hard at work.

Cadence replied without taking her eyes from her computer. "Homework, mum. I'll be down in a bit."

"Please Cadence; it'll only take a moment." Cadence rolled her eyes and stiffly got up from the floor. She met up with Lenore at the foot of the stairs where a small pile of boxes had already appeared. Cadence turned a slightly irritated look to her mother. Lenore wiped her forehead of sweat and lightly chuckled. "Well…..maybe a bit more than a moment." Cadence could only sigh and begin her work.

"I thought it was you who said something about always focus on studies."

"Yes yes," said Lenore. "But there are exceptions to every rule."

"Oh like what?" Cadence asked, moving aside more boxes.

"Like 'stop-what-you're-doing-and-help-mummy' exceptions." Cadence couldn't help but crack a smile, albeit surreptitiously. Her and her mother often did argue but it always playful and more or less ended in a stalemate. Cadence stuffed some picture frames into one of the boxes and held it up for her mother to see.

"What about these?"

"Oh, down there. Those are for storage I should think."

"Right."

Cadence blindly walked down a smaller flight of steps toward a part of the house she never frequently traversed. She set the box down next to some others and took a moment to work the last of her stiffness out. As she moved her neck about in various fashions, she soon came to notice that behind one large stack of boxes was a peculiar outline. Curiosity took full control and soon she was moving the boxes aside in order to reveal an old doorway. Cadence shifted her eyes about in perplexity.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Come here, please."The distant footsteps of Lenore steadily grew louder as she drew closer. Cadence's eyes never left the doorway. Soon Lenore rounded the corner.

"What is it?"

Cadence pointed at the door. "What's through here?"

Lenore's eyes moved to the door and her mouth parted somewhat. She was silent for a moment; Cadence glanced at her mother expectantly. Finally Lenore shook her head slightly and put on a small smile.

"Oh…that looks an old bomb from the great war." Cadence took a step toward it and laid a hand on the doorknob. "Can't imagine it's been opened in years." Cadence turned the knob without resistance, however as soon as she pushed forward she found that the door would not budge an inch. Lenore shifted her eyes between Cadence and the door. The inquisitive young woman pressed her hand against the door and then took a step back. "Cadence…I…really wouldn't-"

"Omph!" Lenore shut her eyes slightly as Cadence did manage to force the door open by putting all her force behind her shoulder, butalas it hurt like a bitch. Cadence pursed her lips together and slowly brought her other hand to her throbbing shoulder. "…Ow….."

"Lordy, I'll be right back." Lenore disappeared into the kitchen again. Cadence winced slightly, trying to nurse her sore shoulder. Soon the look of pain on her face was dissipating once she was able to begin seeing through the cloud of dust. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly, slowly stepping through the open doorway. Cadence was surprised by how few cobwebs she ran into, yet the air was still and musty.

"That's nice." She muttered, stepping further into the shelter. As soon as she took another step further in she felt something thin and stringy graze her cheek. She startled somewhat but soon realized it was a piece of string linking to something above head. It was a string and upon pulling it Cadence turned on a strangely placed florescent bulb. "What?"

Soon her mother was coming back around with some crushed ice in a towel. "Here, this should help."

"Mum?"

"Yes? What?"

"Are you sure how old this thing is?"

"Pretty sure, why?" Cadence looked back up at the light momentarily. Lenore watched as Cadence moved about in the shelter. Lenore shifted a bit uneasily, as though searching for the next possible excuse to order Cadence out of the small room. However, she soon calmed herself and set the towel and ice on a nearby box. "Well just don't stay in there too long, no telling what's floating about in that air."

"Y-Yes, mum," muttered Cadence. Soon she was left alone and took to looking around. Aside from the oddly placed modern lighting system, there were many things accurate to the Second World War; though much of it was covered in cobwebs. The brick walls looked and smelt of decades old. The shelves were stocked full of canned food and hard liquor, obviously meant for a long siege that ultimately would never come. Cadence moved a lock of her hair out of the way as she bent over to get a better look at a book shelf. There were many different novels and periodicals, some of them actually bearing Churchill's signature. Cadence smirked at seeing the war hero's mark. Her smile soon faded when she noticed that the Churchill books possessed a slightly thinner coating of dust than the others.

"Hmm." She moved aside the books and found that a piece of the wall was segmented in the shape of a small rectangle. She pressed her hand against it and recoiled slightly when the small space suddenly opened, revealing a hidden compartment. "Whoa!" She restrained herself for a small moment, but it was not long before curiosity sang its tempting song. Her hand soon found something hidden within the compartment.

Cadence drew her hand out and with it a leather-bound folder. Cadence leveled it in her hands and with a soft puff of air from her lips she drove away what dust had found its way upon it. She brushed her hand over the surface, revealing an embossed crest in the center. It almost appeared "A" shaped in its design.

Cadence's mouth parted slightly. She wasn't sure why the symbol appealed to her so deeply, yet something told her that she should investigate further. Cadence hugged the folder to her person and quickly took her leave of the bomb shelter.

-AAA-

Cadence shoved her bedroom door shut with her back; her arms currently full with her new prize. As she had made her way back upstairs her mother had mentioned something about dinner being almost ready; yet Cadence paid it little mind with only a passing response. She sat back down amongst her school notes, though they were suddenly far less important. Quickly she sat back down pulled open the leather folder. From it she drew a handful of documents, some of which were new and others decades old. She looked upon the documents and at the head of the first page she beheld the same "A" shaped crest as on the folder.

Cadence bit her lip and quickly glanced over her shoulder. Certain that she had no surprise visitors, she returned her attention to the page and immediately began to read;

_"23 May, 1994. Here follows the account of my charge, hopefully it remains a rescue mission….but my kind has never inherited such fortune. I have irreversibly left behind all whom I know and hold dear, but I take solace in the assurances of their safety. At the moment, I know only what William has told me….and that has not been much. However, I trust him. I always have and I presently have no reason to stop. Tomorrow…I depart."_

Cadence noted with some irritation the rather short beginning, yet she quickly skipped ahead several pages.

_"Day twenty-six of my had become dry for weeks and what I began to take for a fool's errand I am now beginning to have a renewed faith. The meager clue I have found has been vague yet I cannot deny its profundity, since upon its find my enemies have intensified their pursuit of me."_

Cadence's fingers almost pinched the pages into a single piece.

_"My latest acquisition from one of my enemies has shed some light. How amusing is it that within this journal I recount my finding and abridging of another man's thoughts. But they are intriguing; the accounts of the Jesuit priest, Jual Rodriguez. His writings take me to his time and his journeys to a remote fortress, hidden amongst tall mountains. Rodriguez describes a fraternal brotherhood, locked in a fierce struggle against a mortal enemy. His hosts explained that their words 'Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted', examines the nature of a world they had come to know and how their people confront it. Rodriguez goes on to mention a name, a family name, which he carried on even after his departure from Masyaf. Who is the woman he names, Cecilia Vallen, and what does she imply? For whatever purpose he has for concealing the nature of her identity, I cannot guess. All I can hope for now is to decipher Cecilia and Cadence's connection. Yet now I must be cautious. I have risked far too much, the remainder of my travels will have to be encoded. Our enemy has too many resources at its disposal, as it is…I enjoy a proper puzzle."_

_Adrian_

"WHAT?!" Cadence exclaimed aloud. She brought the page closer to her face so as to ensure she hadn't misread it, yet as she did she slowly began to shake her head. "He can't mean me…"

Instantly, Cadence set the papers aside and flipped open her netbook. Within moments she was on the internet and searching the etymology of the name she had just read. Unfortunately, and in keeping with the nature of names, she found that pool for the name "Vallen" was wider than she thought. No matter how she reformatted her search, it all still boiled down to the same result; which is to say nothing. She pursed her lips together in irritation. Her newfound obsession may have been infantile in its life, but it was no less potent. Cadence found herself faced with something that almost nobody can ever resist; a mystery. Who is Adrian? How did she have anything to do with this…Cecilia? It might not have jarred her so much if she hadn't discovered these documents within a secret room in her own home.

"No nono, a perfect stranger can't know my name…..I'm not…" Her voice stopped short. Her voice cut out when she realized that no matter how much she tried to rationalize a coincidence, the more it became clear that it simply wasn't a 's fingertips tightly brushed her forehead. She took a moment to reconnoiter her thoughts and then turned her eyes back to her laptop.

"No I…this isn't my family…"

-AAA-

Unbeknownst to Cadence, as she conducted her search, an alert promptly reached the monitor of an Abstergo agent, observing relevant internet activity. The technician answered the alert and immediately paged a number on his phone.

"Dr. Vidic, there's been a name hit; _Cecilia Vallen_…..yes, we have IP address….Cadence Bennet."

-AAA-

The next day Cadence was walking alongside Holly down the street. It had taken every ounce of willpower Cadence possessed not to talk about her discovery during school, yet she managed to contain herself. Even with someone as close to her as her mother, Cadence for some reason felt she could only tell Holly about this; and the fact was that whilst in school one is **never** out of earshot.

"Is that all it said?" Holly asked seriously.

Cadence nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. Mind you, I wouldn't have minded if it was infinitely **more** cryptic," she said sarcastically.

Holly scrunched up her face as she re-read the last page Cadence had. "Who's _Adrian_?"

"I haven't foggiest. He some kind of….historical figure or something?"

Holly looked it over once more before shaking her head and handing it all back to her friend. "I dunno, I mean you say you found this in some rickety old bomb shelter."

"I know,the whole thing seems a bit dodgy and entirely coincidental. But…" Cadence slowed her pace as she began rubbing her brow. Holly slowed with her and gingerly took her friend's free arm.

"But what?"

Cadence smiled and shook her head. "I don't know, I guess a part of me is hoping this is actually leading to something big….and amazing." Cadence fully faced Holly. "I really can't explain it; I've always just had this feeling that there was something more to my life. Like somewhere out there is the answer to a question I haven't even asked yet. I…" Again her voice trailed off, only this time it led to a small chuckle. " to me, that was properly pathetic."

"I don't think so," said Holly earnestly. Cadence looked at her doubtfully. "No honestly, I believe you. What if this is somehow connected with your dreams?"

"Dreams are one thing, this is entirely another-"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Holly. Cadence regarded her with surprise.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you really think this all a coincidence?" Holly asked. Cadence gawked at her for a moment. "I mean really, you just blathered on about how you suspect something's missing in your life and a mystery worth a king's ransom just fell into your lap. There's something of a coincidence and there's something so insane it's got to be true."

Cadence shifted her eyes about for a moment, taking in everything Holly said. Gradually her eyes began to enlarge as her excitement once again ignited.

"Oh my God, you're right…." She looked at a smiling Holly with wide eyed vigor. "You're right!"

"I know I am!"

Cadence looked about wildly, "This is…this is amazing, where do we begin?"

"Well you already have!" said Holly, gesturing to the papers in Cadence's hand.

"Right, right! Well, I couldn't follow up on anything about this 'Cecilia' person, at least not at first. We're going to have to dig a little deeper." Holly began nodding. "Whatever records exist are probably too old to be digitized, but there may be something in the library-"

Suddenly,two black unmarked cars quickly pulled up beside them on the curb and three men dressed in matching black suits stepped out. The two young girls watched them with furrowed brows. One of them approached them while the other two circled behind. Holly glanced at the trailing two with apprehension. Cadence kept her eyes on the one who approached her. He was fairly young, not many years older than Cadence, and boasted a head of neatly gelled black hair.

"Cadence Bennet?" asked the man.

"C-Can I help you?"

"A matter of national security has arisen."

Cadence nodded and folded her hands together. "Yes, well….those sorts of things can certainly muck things up. We wish you all the best."

"We need you, both of you, to come with us immediately," said the young man. Cadence swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

"On whose authority?"

"I'm afraid I can't discuss sensitive matters in public, all I can say at this moment is that we need you to step into that car right now." Holly still eyed the other two men, who at that moment began edging closer to them. The young man took a step closer to Cadence. "Miss, I can offer you a ride in either the back seat or the boot. Now which would you prefer?"

Cadence narrowed her eyes, finding some courage from his condescension. She defiantly drew her cell phone.

"I think I'd _prefer_to call the police."

However before she could dial a single digit, the man nodded to his colleagues and one of them drew a taser and jabbed it into the backside of Holly. Cadence whirled around at the sound of her friend's yelp.

"HOLLY!" Of course no sooner did she try to cry for help when she felt a similar jolt of pain in her side and soon after succumbing to darkness. Her last recollection was the vaguest sensation of being lifted off her feet and stuffed into a tight area.

-AAA-

Lenore sat at the kitchen table later that evening, the other seat occupied not by her daughter but by an officer of the law. Lenore propped her head upon her hand and nodded distantly to what the police officer was saying to her. It had something to do with contacting any close friends, retracing her earlier whereabouts….things that for the moment merely washed over her mind. All that mattered at the moment was that Cadence was missing; and presently, there was no clue as to where she was.

-AAA-

Cadence could not discern how long she had been unconscious. Yet even when she became able to ponder such a thought, she still found the simple act of opening her eyes to be a hardened chore indeed. She became aware of the soft yet utilitarian-like mattress she lay on. Her fingers found some strength and she gripped the side of the bed frame; its cold metallic surface sent immediate shivers down her spine. It almost felt as though she was trapped in a waking dream, barely able to move let alone see or speak.

Finally, Cadence was able to slowly open her eyes and as she did, a large room of silver and white came into focus. She limply turned her head to the right, seeing that an open door led into a full bathroom. Sitting up, Cadence rubbed her head and soon noticed a strange table at the foot of the bed. It was ergonomically shaped, no doubt built for a single reclining individual. Yet as strange as this sit was it still did little to answer the question as to where she was. Cadence rubbed her eyes and then glanced at the clock sitting upon the nightstand. Amongst the various buttons was an embossed logo which she instantly recognized.

"Abstergo," she whispered.

Abstergo?! What in the blazes was she doing here?! And Holly….HOLLY!

Cadence hurriedly looked about, though she saw no immediate sign of her best friend. Cadence leapt from her bed and dashed into the bathroom while calling her name; still nothing. Cadence emerged from the bathroom with her hands worryingly running through her hair. It was also then that she noticed she no longer wore the clothes she'd stepped into that morning. Many dark imaginings suddenly flooded her mind. Cadence remained rooted, afraid that any further investigation into her new surroundings would only serve to haunt her psyche.

At that moment however a sound made her whirl around in place. The door to her room was opening with a sharp and smooth sliding sound and in stepped the young man who had apprehended her and Holly. Cadence regarded him with narrowed eyes as he walked in carrying a tray.

"Good morning," he said flatly. Cadence said nothing, but merely backed away as he approached and placed the tray on a nearby desk. Upon the tray was a plate of eggs, bacon, some fruit, a biscuit and a glass of orange juice. "Breakfast,Miss," he said in the same tone. "Your belongings are being cleaned and will be set into storage for the duration of your stay here." He saw Cadence swallow hard and grip the fabric of her plain clothes. "Calm if you please, a nurse saw to your new clothes."

"Where's Holly?!" Cadence demanded.

"My name is Casper Becket; I am to be your operator."

"Well your servant sir, now where is HOLLY?! And by what right do you abduct us and imprison us here?!"

Cadence gave Becket the hardest of stares and did not mutter a single word until so much as one of her questions was answered. Becket finally let out a sigh and allowed her stony demeanor to soften.

"What I told you when we first met was the truth; we honestly do require your services."

Cadence screwed up her face in confusion. "We? You mean Abstergo. Since when are they in the business of kidnapping?"

"Since the true face of their day to day operations was masked by the public image the whole world now trusts," said Becket honestly. Cadence went silent again. "Miss Ambrose was an unfortunate bystander, I'm afraid. Our orders were to acquire only you, yet we simply could not do so in her presence so contingent actions were taken. Rest assured she is here and is being kept in comfort for such time as our work requires."

"A locked door with no way out isn't _comfort_; it's a prison!" she spat back at him. "And as for whatever 'work' you people seem to think I'm going to help you with, I can assure **you** that I won't be lifting a single finger. What have you and _Abstergo_ to say about THAT?!" So saying, she folded her arms and sat back down upon her bed.

Becket, already 'enjoying' his Zen working conditions, drew a small memory card and slid into a slot on the strange table at foot of the bed. A screen above the head of the bed came to life and Cadence instantly recognized the images.

"While there exist many clever and imaginative ways of describing this information, it is for all intents and purposes….your life," said Becket. Cadence's mouth hung ajar as everything from photos from Facebook to family pictures and home videos were displayed. Cadence slowly shook her head; who were these people? Soon it was all swept aside and the name 'Cecelia Vallen' appeared along with a lineup of web addresses.

"Your most recent online inquires," he prompted. "Some time ago we explored the nature of Madame Vallen's relevance to our plan; however the trail ran cold very quickly." It soon became clear to Cadence where this was going. "However, with the discovery of Adrian's journals and your obvious lineage, we can now proceed."

"Hang on," said Cadence, turning in place. "What lineage?"

Becket switched off the screen. "Admittedly that is only an educated guess, but it has high merit. We're hoping that through examination of Madame Vallen's exploits, we may be that much closer to achieving our goals."

"How?"

Becket laid both of his hands down on the table. "This is a device, called an 'Animus'. It was first developed by Doctor Vidic himself. It allows us to access genetic memory locked within an individual's DNA." Becket leaned slightly toward her. "We need you to enter the Animus and follow Cecelia's path."

"That-is-preposterous! What makes you think there is anything of Cecelia's memories in **my** DNA?"

"I'm afraid I can't say anymore at the moment. All I can say is that we both have our mandates and that we are to begin as soon as possible." Cadence snickered and once again turned away from him. Becket rubbed his forehead and sighed. "It shames me to say that if you do not cooperate we can induce a coma…" Still looking away from him, Cadence's mouth parted slightly. "Our task would be all the more tedious yet still manageable. Unfortunately, you would likely awaken with irreparable brain damage and of course retain no memory of what has transpired."

Cadence's face was awash of effort which was spent holding back tears. She stood up and looked at him."What is it?"

Becket shook his head.

"What could possibly be so important to you that would do this someone?"

"I would hope that in time you might come to have the proper understanding. You simply have to trust me."

Cadence folded her arms and shook her head. "Trust you?...never." Her whisper was so sharp is quite nearly cut the air itself in half. Cadence wiped away a single renegade tear and slowly approached him. She let her fingers rest on the table and paused. "If I help you, will you let Holly go?"

Becket let his eyes move about before nodding. "Yes."

"Do I have your word?"

Again he nodded. "Yes."

Cadence nodded in response and closed her eyes. "Then what do I do?"

"Lie down," said Becket. Reluctantly, Cadence lowered herself down on the table, her body conforming to the shape of the Animus. "The Animus interface is very intuitive but it may still take a little getting used to. You simply need to relax and the Animus will do most of the driving."

"You said this thing makes memories appear in my head…or before my eyes or some such thing; any danger in that?"

Becket took up his station a small console attached to the animus "Subjects haven't been going barking mad, if that's what you mean."

"In no small way," muttered Cadence.

"We'll have to closely examine each memory before we can progress, so I wouldn't try to rush things. Astonishingly, they go as far back as her infancy, no doubt subconscious memories remain as strong as ever. Right, here we go. Good luck…and thank you."

"Just get on with it," Cadence snapped.

As per her intolerant instruction, Becket began the first memory sequence. A thing arching pane of glass moved over Cadence's eyes and almost immediately it projected a display of words and numbers. She could hear Becket typing the computer beside her and within moments the world around her was engulfed in a white light and she was in her velvety prison no longer.

* * *

Right! Tune in next time for Cecelia's first memories, should be awesome. Leave us some comments, please! Thanks for reading!


	3. Memory 1: The Sister's Daughter

So sorry for the long wait! Honestly, so many things can come between us and updating. Yeesh. Anyway, our first dive into Cecelia's memories is here for yall's enjoyment! Hope you like it and let us know what you think. Cheers!

* * *

Chapter Three

Memory 1: The Sister's Daughter

As per Cadence's intolerant instruction, Becket began the first memory sequence. A thin arching pane of glass moved over Cadence's eyes and almost immediately it projected a display of words and numbers. She could hear Becket typing on the computer beside her and within moments the world around her was engulfed in a white light and she was in her velvety prison no longer.

**-AAA-**

**Paris, January 1497**

Winter had always been the cruelest time of year, especially in Paris. It was something every occupant of Paris agreed on, even the rich and poor. Mornings were always the same during that time of year – snow covered the stone pavements and cobblestone walkways in thick hard clumps, and icicles hung from covers and shop signs in sharp daggers. Where snow didn't cover, a thin layer of ice was there instead, causing the occasional unfortunate victim to unceremoniously slip and fall. The cold hung on the air from the night before, threatening to freeze a man's throat if he dared to breathe.

And it was on that very morning that Sister Marguerite of the Couvent Des Cordeliers suddenly felt the urgent need to take a morning walk through the streets of Paris. She rolled out of her small bed and pulled on her habit. Even through the padding of her habit, she felt the cold bite her to the bone. Frost was encrusted on the small window of her room, forming intricate patterns on the surface. Thinking quickly, she took her thick woolen cloak for extra warmth.

Closing her door behind her, she made her way down the passage way of the dormitories. She knew that soon they would all be woken up by the Mother Superior for morning prayers; Sister Marguerite had simply just woken up a little beforehand. A little morning walk would not be a problem, at least it shouldn't be. Leaving the dormitories, she entered the main foyer of the Couvent Des Cordeliers. She was somewhat surprised, however, when she passed by the Mother Superior's office and seeing that the Mother Superior herself was in there, hunched over her desk in what seemed like a monumental task – judging from her unflinching expression as she scanned the large amounts of documents littering the desk before her.

Sister Marguerite lingered at the door, momentarily debating with herself whether it was a good idea to disturb the Mother Superior at that present time. But, she eventually relented, knowing that she would be in a spot of trouble if she suddenly left without informing _somebody_.

"_Bonjour, Mère Supérieure_ (Good morning, Mother Superior)," Sister Marguerite said eventually.

The Mother Superior then did something that caused Sister Marguerite to raise a brown in surprise. Her gaze suddenly snapped away from the documents in front of her, and she quickly moved to gather them all up into one pile and placed them in a drawer in front of her. This was certainly interesting, Sister Marguerite observed. She had never seen the Mother Superior behave this way, and it most certainly unexpected. But, she knew better then to question actions like these, so she simply watching with detached interest and the Mother Superior gathered her wits.

_"Bonjour à vous aussi, Sœur Marguerite _(Good morning to you too, Sister Marguerite)," she replied, her voice surprisingly even giving her previous fluster. "_Vous êtes éveillé tôt ce matin _(You are awake early this morning)."

Sister Marguerite nodded her head. "_Oui_. I awoke this morning with a sudden, insatiable need to stretch my legs. I decided a walk through the streets of Paris would do," she explained.

The Mother Superior regarded her with studying hazel eyes. _"_It is rather early in the morning. Most people are not used to seeing a _Sœur_ (Sister) wandering the streets," she eventually replied, her voice still keeping its even tone.

Sister Marguerite thought for a moment. "Perhaps I could say I am just distributing arms to the poor," she suggested. "It is what we do, _bon _(right)?"

The Mother Superior thought for a moment, and then slowly nodded her head. "_D'accord _(Alright). Just make sure you are back before morning prayers." She reached into another draw in her desk and produced a small pouch jiggling with coins. "Just in case you feel the need."

Sister Marguerite took the pouch and nodded her head as she stowed it in the folds of her habit. "_Merci_, _Mère Supérieure_."

As she left her office, she stole a quick glance at the Mother Superior. For a moment, she wondered just what it was that had made the normally calm and collected woman to become so jumpy. For the moment, she decided to shrug it off. Whatever it was, it obviously was not her concern.

The cold was thick in the air as she stepped through the large front doors of the convent. Like every morning, snow yet to be swept aside completely covered the courtyard, causing Sister Marguerite to lift the hem of her habit to her knees and take awkwardly large steps until she reached the street. The snow on the street, at least, had been swept enough to walk properly. She made a quick decision to walk to the River Seine and back. That should be enough to fulfil her sudden need.

The Couvent des Cordeliers was located right in the heart of Paris, and a short twenty minutes on foot to the River Seine. It was surrounded by many other buildings, usually homes for people who could afford to live and worked in the city. Holding her cloak close to her person, she walked down the narrow, cobblestone pathway. On each side of her, tall beige buildings towered over her. But she did not mind, she loved Paris. She loved the vibrancy and life that went on in it. But most of all, she loved the life she led and the good she did.

Sister Marguerite had been born Marie-Celeste Delacroix de Rouen, in the port city of Rouen. The city lay to the north of Paris and had been there since Roman rimes, when it had been known as Rotomagus. Rouen had always been a prosperous trading city and port, due to the easy access to the sea via the Seine corridor. Wheat and wine was frequently exported to England, in return for wool and timber. Sister Marguerite had loved her home. Her family villa had been built on a high cliff overlooking the harbour. Every night, she would sit near the edge and watch the sea below as the ships drew into the harbour – much to the dismay of her parents, who preferred her to remain indoors and focus on her studies and finding a suitable husband.

However, it was not like she was not spoiled for choice. In fact, she had a number of suitors who had been interested in asking for her hand. Sister Marguerite – or Marie-Celeste for that matter – had been a famous beauty in her home city. With flowing, wavy golden hair, stunning violet eyes, high cheekbones, and pale skin like cream and roses, she never failed to catch the eye of a man wherever she went. But, she knew from an early age that she had no desire to marry and man and settle down to bare his children. After all, she had two older brothers and another older sister. Did it matter what _she_ did with her life? Either way, when she announced her intentions to join a convent to her family, they were understandably shocked. But they eventually relented when she explained her intentions. She had only been sixteen years old.

After that, she travelled to Paris, and immediately fell in love with the city and the Couvent Des Cordeliers. She felt no regret when they informed her of the sacrifices she would have to make. Neither did she regret it when they shaved off her long, beautiful golden hair (she was allowed to grow it back, they informed her), and discarded her finery and jewels. To her, it was a necessary sacrifice for her life as a woman of God.

She had been at the Convent for six years, she realised when she finally reached the River Seine. She stopped when she reached the stone fence running along the bank, and leaned against it. Below her, the water flowed along a murky brown and blue colour, and reeds grew along the surface. She began to wonder just why she had been drawn here, why she had suddenly felt the urgent need to take a walk. Was it a sign, or a calling from God? She prayed to him every morning and night, and even other times during the day when she was not required to. Just what did he want her to do? Wait for a sign from him, or rather another? Her faith in God was unwavering, as it always had been – she chose to become a nun, after all. However, there were times when she didn't understand his intentions, and wished she had insight to his plans just so she could know what to do next – just like now. She was loathed to admit it, but she found it irritating when-

"Um, excuse me?"

A meek sounding voice shook Sister Marguerite, pulling her from her rushed train of thoughts. It had her jump slightly, in fact. She realised grimly that this was probably how Mother Superior felt when she had surprised her.

Sister Marguerite turned around and found herself face to face with a young woman. She appeared to be only a few years younger than Sister Marguerite herself. Her hair was a very dark shade of brown, contrasting with her pale skin tone, and her eyes were pale blue. However, they did not shine, and seemed be glazed and distant. She wore a tattered navy cloak that had seen better days. However, it did not look nearly as warm as the one Sister Marguerite wore; judging from the way the young woman was shivering. Sister Marguerite could sense that something was deeply troubling the young woman, but she knew that she had no right to ask anything of her.

Instead, she had to be calm and comforting. Speak to the woman, and if she chooses to confide, that was perfectly alright. "_Qu'est-ce que c'est, mon ami?_ (What is it, my dear?)" She asked.

The young woman momentarily averted her gaze and pulled her cloak closer to her body. Even under the layer of cloth, Sister Marguerite could see that the young woman was unhealthily thin. Finally, she drew in a breath and looked up at Sister Marguerite. "I . . . was wondering . . . if you could hear . . . my confession?" she asked.

The request stunned Sister Marguerite. Surely this young woman was aware that nuns were not permitted to hear confessions? That was a priest's job. However, she was not about to turn down helping this young woman who was in obvious distress. She shook her head. "_Non, mon ami_(No, my dear)," she replied. "I'm not allowed to listen to confessions. But I can direct you to a nearby church where there are confessional booths –"

The young woman shook her head. "_Non_, _non_. _C'est bien_ (It's fine). I was just . . ." She averted her gaze and looked at the ground. "_Ce n'est rien_ (Never mind. Forget it)."

Before Sister Marguerite could say anything else, the young woman rushed off. By the time she had opened her mouth with her words ready and waiting, the young woman was lost among the buildings and opening market stands. Sister Marguerite closed her mouth and sighed deeply. She regretted not being able to help this poor woman. After all, that was one of the many things she loved doing with her life as a nun.

Not knowing what else to do, Sister Marguerite decided to head back to the convent. Morning prayers were about to start, and she had promised the Mother Superior that she would be back in time for them. She went back the exact same way she went, the whole time wondering just what the young woman had wanted to tell her. Was she the reason she suddenly felt the urgent need to take a walk? If so, then why did she still feel like her task from God was incomplete? Nonetheless, she had no clue as to what she had to do. All she could do was head back to Couvent Des Cordeliers for her morning prayers.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that it wasn't until she was at the foot of the stairs that led into the convent that she noticed what was resting on the very top stair. A basket, one that the florists usually used to carry flowers in, was resting there. Only, it was not flowers that it was holding. Instead, it was a bundle wrapped in a tattered navy blue . . . cloak? Intrigued, Sister Marguerite reached down and placed a hand on the bundle, only to feel it move! She snatched her hand back, as a possible thought crept into her mind. Tentatively, she reached out her hand again, and her other, and lifted the bundle out of the basket. She pulled back a section of the cloth, and then drew in a sharp gasp when a tiny face revealed itself from beneath.

Sister Marguerite spot rooted at the spot, her mouth hanging open. She had stories about things like these, children being left on the doorsteps of churches and them being adopted into the faith. But nothing like this had ever happened during her tenure. She did not know what to do, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She picked up the basket, opened the door and headed straight for the Mother Superior's office.

Not even bothering to knock, she pushed open the door, startling the woman again.

"_Sœur Marguerite, quel est le sens de tout cela?_ (Sister Marguerite, what is the meaning of this?)" She demanded.

"_Désolé, la Mère Supérieure _(I'm sorry, Mother Superior)," Sister Marguerite said. She placed the basket on her desk, and positioned the bundle in her arms. "I found something interesting on the doorsteps when I returned from my walk."

Mother Superior rose to her feet and stepped over to her. "What did you find, child?" she asked sternly.

Sister Marguerite moved the cloth aside, and watched as Mother Superior's expression morphed into a near mirror image of what had been her own.

"_Mon dieu _(My God)," she breathed. She reverently made the sign of the cross and then glanced up at Sister Marguerite. "Was there anything else with it? Is it a boy or a girl?"

Sister Marguerite shook her head. "I did not check. And . . ." She glanced inside the bundle quickly. "It's a girl." She pointed to the basket on the desk. "I found her in that basket."

The Mother Superior checked in the basket, and quickly produced a folded piece of paper. Sister Marguerite watched at the Mother Superior read through it, and regarded to curiosity as her stern expression faded away more and more and was replaced with shock.

"_Sœur_ Marguerite, take her to the nearest doctor. They should have wet nurses there to feed her." She said all that without looking away from the letter.

"_Mère Supérieure_, what did the letter say?"

"No questions. Just do as I say, _s'il vous plait_."

Sister Marguerite knew better than to keep asking her. So, she just nodded her head. "_D'accord_." She glanced down at the baby girl. "She needs a name," she mused.

"Cecilia," the Mother Superior quickly told her. "Now, Sister Marguerite. Please do as I say."

Sister Marguerite nodded her head, and left the office without another word.

The Mother Superior stood in her office amidst a maelstrom of thoughts and prayers. In her hand was the paper left in the basket, a single name etched in the lower corner.

As Sister Marguerite walked back toward the entrance, she could not help but gaze down at the sleeping child. It was not as if she had never seen an infant before in her life, she almost always saw Mothers with their children when she was out on the market. And depictions of the Virgin and Child were littered throughout the convent. But to hold one in her arms, it was a very different sensation. She would never have a child of her own, and she had long accepted that. But maybe, just maybe, this child would be a daughter to all of them.

**-AAA-**

**Paris, November 1500**

It was a little after her third birthday that Sister Marguerite realized that she would not be the quiet, demure little girl that most young women were expected to be. Cecilia had barely learned to speak properly, but already she was causing trouble around the Convent. Unfortunately for Sister Marguerite, she was the one who got the most of the other Sisters' and the Mother Superior's wrath, as she had insisted that Cecilia be left in her charge.

When she awoke one morning, a few weeks after Cecilia's third birthday, she sighed exasperatedly when she noticed that the little girl was not lying next to her. This was going to be on her neck, Sister Marguerite knew.

Sure enough, the moment after Sister Marguerite dressed herself in her habit, she heard a knock on her door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a _very_ cantankerous looking fellow sister, and a three-year-old girl covered in at least an inch worth of dirt and grime. The girl gazed up at Sister Marguerite with nothing but innocence in her deep blue eyes.

"Look who I found climbing among the rafters under the roof this morning?" The question was rhetorical and dripping with stern scorn.

Sister Marguerite sighed again. It was going to take a very long bath in order to wipe away all the dirt and grime and cobwebs that covered the little girl. She hoped that the Convent had the water to spare such a task. "_Je suisdésolé, Sœur Catherine _(I am sorry, Sister Catherine)," she said. "Cecilia must have slipped out sometime this morning while I was asleep."

But the other sister was not done yet. "It is the fourth time in the past two weeks that the child has caused some kind of trouble!" Sister Catherine complained. "You need to discipline the girl if she is to learn proper manners; to say nothing of her own safety!"

Sister Marguerite fought the urge to defend Cecilia, but she knew that I would have been unwise for her to do so. In addition, Sister Catherine did have a point – the child was behaving very recklessly. She and the rest of the Sisters all did care about her well being.

She nodded and placed a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "_Ne vousinquiétez pas, Sœur Catherine_ (Do not worry, Sister Catherine)," Sister Marguerite told her. "I will give Cecilia a good talking to."

Sister Catherine huffed. Her dark eyes were still flashing with anger. "You had better. You allow her far too much freedom. I swear to God himself, if that girl one day falls and breaks her neck, it shall be upon you." And with that, she spun around on her heel and left.

Sister Marguerite smiled and shook her head. She knew that what her fellow Sister had said was not true, they all loved Cecilia. They all cared deeply about her; otherwise they would not be so concerned about her safety. If the little girl did happen to one day hurt herself, there would be no doubt that they would all be deeply worried about her, and would pray till they could pray no more that she would recover.

She then felt a tug on her habit. Sister Marguerite glanced down and found Cecilia's deep blue gaze meeting hers. The Sister sighed. Right, there was the matter of disciplining the girl.

She took the little girl by the hand and led her out of the room they shared. "Let's get you cleaned up, Cecilia," she said tiresomely.

They made their way to the lavatories at the very end of the dormitories. She filled a bath of heated water and scented salts, stripped Cecilia out of her grubby night shift, and wrestled her in. As expected, the little girl protested and struggled, but eventually calmed down. Sister Marguerite wet a cloth in the water, rubbing it against a bar of soap, and began using it to clean the dirt and grime off of her.

"You really are a handful, _ma chérie _(my dear)," Sister Marguerite muttered as she rubbed Cecilia's scalp, trying to remove every speck of dirt out of her tangled hair. "I swear you are going to give me grey hair before my time."

Cecilia's high pitched laughter echoed in the lavatory. She had forgotten about her aversion to bathing, and was instead seeming to have the time of her life splashing about in the warm water. Sister Marguerite did not expect the little girl to understand what she was saying – Cecilia had barely learned to speak properly, after all.

Sister Marguerite sighed again and starting cleaning behind the little girls' ears, she noted grimly to herself that she had been doing quite a bit of sighing lately.

"Just what were your parents like? Were they as wild and you are?" she asked for no particular reason. Realizing that asking the question was pointless, she dropped her gaze and dipped the cloth into the water.

She gazed down at the little girl again, who by now was ducking her head under the water and pretending that she was a mythical sea creature from her storybooks. Every day, Sister Marguerite grew more and more certain that the young woman she had encountered by the River Seine on the fateful day was the little girl's mother. It seemed obvious and she had been suspicious at first, but she had written it off as a coincidence. Yet she had long been told that there existed no coincidences, but the will of God. If anything, it made her feel even guiltier about her inability to help her. Was she in so much trouble that she had to resort to leaving her new-born child on the steps of a church?

Consequently, none of that mattered anymore. The child had still been left on their steps, and the mother had been long gone by then. She had left a note, however. But so far, only the Mother Superior had laid eyes on it. There were a few times when Sister Marguerite had wondered just what had been written on it, and what it contained that had suddenly caused the usually calm and collected Mother to suddenly become distressed?

Sister Marguerite had been forced to come to her own conclusions. She had figured that the child had noble origins – that her father was some high ranking, rich man who had no use for an illegitimate daughter. It was common knowledge that most noblemen had at least a few bastard children. However, in most cases, they only chose to recognize sons as their illegitimate offspring. They at least had their uses as bodyguards, squires, and would-be knights of the King's army. Bastard daughters, however, had little other use besides pawns in their parents' political appetites. But even that was a difficult thing to arrange when one realizes the most fundamental question: who in their right mind would marry a bastard?

Sister Marguerite then felt a small amount of comfort when she broke away from her thoughts and gazed down at the little girl. The dirt and grime no longer clung to her skin and instead floated around in the now lukewarm water surrounding her. She felt solace in the thought that little Cecilia did not need to worry about the possibility of having to sell herself or be married off at an absurdly young age. She was now a child of the church, named after St. Cecilia herself, the patron saint of music. She was likely to follow in Sister Marguerite's footsteps and become a nun. At least, that was but one of many destinies that she could see in Cecilia's future. She was loathed to admit it, but that thought of the girl's mother one day showing up and wishing to claim her back caused her a fair amount of grief. Perhaps she had grown almost too fond of the girl. Was such a thing allowed in her station? She did not know; which is why she kept it to herself.

She pulled the giggling three-year-old out of the bathtub and dried her down with a clean cloth. She then dressed her in a simple blue gown she had recently purchased. Sister Marguerite liked dressing her in blue, as it brought out the vivid hue in her eyes. At times, she often caught herself likening her appearance to a younger version of the Virgin Mary herself, save for a dark hair rather than the common golden blonde she was usually depicted with. She had to always to scold herself for thinking those thoughts; it was completely blasphemous to compare a mere mortal (regardless of her feelings for said person) to one as revered as the Virgin Mother.

Sister Marguerite then began the audacious task of attempting to tame Cecilia's wild and unruly curls. They had become even more due to her morning activities in the Convent roofs. As expected, the little girl whined and whimpered in pain as Sister Marguerite mercilessly tugged and pulled at the knots.

"Why do you have to have so much hair?" Sister Marguerite muttered exasperatedly.

By the time she had finished smoothing out most of the tangles in her hair, the brush had gathered a rather large amount of loose hair. The little girl really _was_ going to have thick hair when she is older. She either did have _some_ kind of noble origins, or she just happened to come from a pair of good looking commoners. Either way, she was going to be very popular with boys and men upon becoming of marrying age.

The thoughts still troubled her, but Sister Marguerite reminded herself that the little girl was only three. She had a number of years left before Cecilia will be able to choose whether she wishes to leave them and marry or pledge her life to God. While she never once regretted her own life's choice, her prayers were often consumed with hope that Cecilia would be met with a bright and wondrous future.

Sister Marguerite brushed those thoughts aside when she heard bells in the distance. It was time for morning prayers, and neither of them could afford to be late. They had been in the past due to the little girl's tendency to become fascinated by something and wander off to inspect it. Such occurrences had caused Sister Marguerite to erupt into a state of panic and assume the worst. Once or twice, the girl had even managed to climb onto the stone railing running alongside the bridge over the Seine. How she had managed to balance herself and walk the entire length of it mystified all the Sisters in the Couvent Des Cordeliers. All except Sister Marguerite, who was always too busy scolding the little girl for her reckless behavior to be amazed by anything at that moment.

But now, it was time for prayers. Peaceful, calm and stress free prayers. It was one activity that Sister Marguerite knew Cecilia could behave herself for.

She took the little girl by the hand and led her along their way. "Come along, child. We shouldn't keep the Lord waiting."

**-AAA-**

**Paris, April 1501**

Cecilia awoke before Sister Marguerite, as she did every morning. She then silently slipped out from under the covers and threw a woolly cloak over her think night shift. Even at four years of age, she was aware of why dressing warmly during the dead of winter in Paris was important. It was something she prided herself on, being more aware and wise for her four years. She had heard Sister Marguerite say that many times, in a way that sounded rather pleased with herself, Cecilia thought. But she was on suspecting, in all tip toed over to the wooden door, opened it only a crack, and then slipped out like a cat without making a sound.

As it was every early morning, the dorm area was quiet and deserted. Cecilia knew that the Sisters were always early to rise, but it was currently early even for them! The little girl quivered with excitement, knowing exactly where she was going to go first. She left the dorms in under two minutes – it was another thing she prided herself on, her surprising speed for her four years, and made her way to the refectory kitchen. The smell of porridge and bread hit her nose, causing her stomach to rumble in response. She patted her stomach, promising it that she would satisfy it soon.

Peering in from the door, she spied the cook hard at work mixing the large quantity of porridge in a giant pot. Glancing quickly in another direction, she spied a leg of ham, obviously for lunch later on. That would be perfect, Cecilia thought. She kept her attention on the cook, knowing that he was the important target at the moment. He was an old man, possibly in his late thirties, and he had been cooking for the Convent for years. Cecilia did not know how long, Sister Marguerite had not told her and she had never bothered to ask herself.

The cook was humming a tune to himself as he worked, one that Cecilia could not name. Instead, she crouched down where she was standing and watched him closely. He had arrived a little while ago, she judged from the amount of progress he had made, so he was due for his short privy break soon. Then, she would be safe to make a grab for some of the food. It would have proven more of a challenge for her to swipe some of the food whole he was there, but even she knew that that was too much of a risk. Goodness knows what the Sisters would say or do if the cook caught her; they already saw her as a bit of a nuisance.

She almost missed her chance when the cook finally left the kitchen, on what she suspected was his privy break. She gathered her wits and then finally braved the kitchen. Cecilia pulled off her cloak and formed it into a bag around her waist. She climbed onto the counter and grabbed a few pieces of cut ham, not daring to touch the sharp knife lying almost innocently close to the leg. She stuffed them into the cloak folds and then hopped off the counter. Next, she stole a bit of bread from another counter and stuffed it into her cloak. She gazed up at the large pot cooking over the furnace. She wondered if it would be worth for her to climb onto the counter next to it and take some of the porridge, bread and ham would not be enough to fill her up. After pondering it for a few moments, she decided for it.

Grabbing a bowl, she climbed onto the counter opposite the large pot. She felt relieved when she found the she was just tall enough to reach in without touching the scalding surface of the pot. She reached her bowl over the bubbling porridge and then slowly lowered it into the mixture. Lifting it out, she saw that it was nearly full to the brim.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She realised that they were coming from the door that the cook had left through. He was coming back! Thinking quickly, she swiftly lowered herself to the floor and then dashed out the door she had entered through.

She did not stop running until she was out of breath. Leaning against a wall, she inhale and exhaled until she felt her heart begin to calm itself in her chest. Then she observed her stolen booty: a handful of bits of chunks of meat wrapped in the front of her dress, a few bits of bread, and a serving of steaming porridge in a small bowl. Grinning with satisfaction at her prize, the little girl walked on, while eating her breakfast of porridge by the handfuls.

Near the dormitories, there was a small alcove built into the stone walls. It was just tall and wide enough for a small child to slip into, but it was inconspicuous enough for your average pass byer to not give it a second thought. Every one of the Sisters knew that the Convent was old, so it was bound to have a few holes from aging bricks.

Cecilia had discovered the alcove a little after her third birthday. That morning, she become bored during a Sunday Mass and had successfully managed to slip away from Sister Marguerite's side. Like the rest of the Sisters, Cecilia had thought nothing of it. After all, the Convent was very old – or so she had been told. This time, however, she had decided to explore it. She was in inquisitive child, after all – a trait that was a never-ending concern of Sister Marguerite.

Cecilia had discovered that the alcove actually led to a tunnel. Feeling a sense of adventure overcome her, she went down on her hands and knees – oblivious to the fact that her pure white gown (Or "Sunday Best" as Sister Marguerite called it) was slowly building up layers of dirt and grime – which gradually grew bigger the more she pressed on. Eventually, it led to a small circular room with no ceiling. The air was heavy and musty; indicating that she was the first person to enter the room is possibly decades. Scoping out the room with keen eyes, she saw that the walls held the crumbling remains of old stone stairs, ascending the room in a circular fashion. Thinking nothing of the few missing steps, and the possibility of them falling out from beneath her, she began climbing.

By the midway point, a few turns of the staircase up, she noticed light flittering in from above in between the gaps of boards. She was near the top, Cecilia realised excitedly. She sped up her movements. By the time she had reached the top, she saw that there was a doorway leading into another secret room. It was hot stuffy, and the air carried with it dust. She could hear the sounds of peddlers and merchants from the streets below, however, in this room, it was as though time stood still while the outside world changed and progressed. Entranced by the stillness, the little girl took a single step forward . . . only walk face first into a giant spider's web. Momentarily blinded, she instinctively thrashed her hands over her face and head, trying to peel the sticky webs off. Then suddenly, she shrieked when she heard a snarling hiss and the sharp pains of teeth and claws on her leg. The shock restored her eyesight, and she looked down only to discover a black and white mature cat clamped around her leg. She then realised that her foot was over the cat's tail.

"_Un chat_?" (A cat?) The little girl said to herself.

Taking her foot off its tail, she reached down to pet its head. The feline however, lowered its head away from her hand. It did, however, unclamp itself off her leg. It turned its attention to a pouch tied to the little girl's waistband.

Cecilia grinned. "_Voulez-vous ma tourte à la viande, petit chat?_" (Do you want my meat pie, little cat?) the little girl asked teasingly.

The black and white cat sat on its hind legs before her, whipping its long skinny tail to its right side. It gazed at Cecilia threw bright green eyes, pupils large and black in the dim light. It opened its mouth and let out a long, low _me-ow_.

The little girl chuckled and pulled the cut of meat pie out of her ouch and held it out to the cat. "_Jesuppose quecelaveut dire 'oui'_" (I suppose that means 'yes')

The cat sniffed the pie, and the snatched it out of her outstretched hand. It turned and bounded over to a pile of old rags on the other side of the room. Quietly, the little girl followed after the cat and hid behind a pile of old bricks. The adult cat dropped the piece of food on the floor in front of it. Cecilia watched with amazement as, from out of a crevice in the cliff of rags, five small kittens emerged. They immediately attacked the meat pie, each one grabbing as much as they could before the other.

Transfixed, the little girl quietly moved out from her hiding spot and slowly made her way over to the rioting feeding kittens. Being a young girl, she did not expect them to instinctively back away to take refuge back under the rags

"_Non! S'ilvousplaît! Ne fuyez pas!_"(No! Please! Don't run away!) Cecilia exclaimed. However, she watched, crestfallen, as the kittens retreated back under the rags. The little girl felt her small body shake and her face flush. Hot tears welled, two escaping and run down her cheek. "_S'ilvous plait . . ._" (Please)

She did not notice at first, but the black and white adult cat, the Mother of the kittens, had not moved from its spot. But then, it stood back up on all fours. The little girl felt it brushed itself up against her leg, and then walk over to the crevice. Drying her eyes, Cecilia watch as the cat meowed one, twice, three times. One by one, the kittens emerged from their refuge and gathered around in front of it. Crouching down, the little girl offered out her hand.

Instinctively, the kittens flinched and began to slowly back into the hole, only to be stopped by a shirt, curt growl from the Mother cat.

"_Il estbien_," (It is alright) Cecilia cooed calmly. "_Je ne vais pas vous faire de mal_." (I will not hurt you.)

The kittens gazed up at her unsurely. For a moment, it seemed none of them were willing to accept the little girl as a friend rather than foe. Cecilia felt her spirits slowly fall as none of the kittens dared to move. She was about to withdraw her hand, when the small black kitten – the smallest one of all of them – took a tentative step forward. The little girl remained perfectly still, her fallen spirits slowly rising with each small step the kitten took. Eventually, the tiny creature gingerly sniffed her hand. A smile stretched across her face as the kitten grew bolder and rubbed its face against her hand.

The only trivial thought to enter her mind was the prospect of having to make up an excuse for Sister Marguerite about the scratches on her shin.

Six felines bounded toward Four-year-old Cecilia as she entered the abandoned room. Five of them were only a little over a year old, roughly adults in human years now. They all rushed around her, rubbing themselves affectingly against her shins. Cecilia chuckled and threw the bits of ham out in front of her. They all followed the rain of food and greedily pounced on the scattered pile of ham. Cecilia plopped herself down and leaned against a wooden post, absentmindedly chewing on the pieces of torn bread.

She found herself wondering if she was the only one aware of this secret attic, as well as the hidden passage that was need to traverse in order to reach it. In all honesty, she was strongly for the possibility that was the only one. No one else but a small child could fit through the alcove and the tunnel. It meant that the attic was her own personal space for her and the cats.

The black cat, the one that had been the first to trust Cecilia, left the rioting rabble and brushed himself against Cecilia. She ran her hand over his back, emitting a loud purr and causing him to arch his back in pleasure. Sister Clarice had once told her that cats were untrustworthy, and that all black cats were witches familiars. Sister Marguerite had been quick to object, saying that just like humans; cats are God's creation as well – despite the fact that like all animals, they lack souls. Cecilia, however, felt strangely attached to cats for a reason even she was unable to answer.

When she turned her attention back to the hungry cats, she saw that they had dispersed and were now off doing their own thing. She watched as the brown and white tabby she had named Minette make a daring leap from one crumbling stone and brick pillar to another almost three and a half meters apart. She found herself wondering if she could ever make such a jump. But then, she inwardly scoffed at the idea. How could such a thing be humanly possible?

The young black soon crawled onto Cecilia's lap and curled into a ball. He was even still purring. Cecilia smiled and scratched him behind his years. Cats were quiet and aloof most of the time, but they were also deadly hunters – quick and silent. The little girl again imagined that she was able to be cat-like. But she inwardly scolded herself at the thought. After all, it was not humanly possible.

-**AAA-**

The world which had consumed Cadence quickly faded away and was replaced by a blank sheet of white nothingness. She had only begun to grow accustomed to the virtual world that was engulfing her. It was a difficult feeling to have to endure, unfortunately the reality was inescapable. She knew the dream which she had been forced to live through was ending, yet she was unable to pry herself from it. It was as though she was still shackled to something she couldn't touch or smell.

"WHAT?!" Cadence roused from her electronically induced slumber rather anxiously. She looked about while her heart raced incessantly. The glass pane before her eyes rotated away and out of sight. Her hands moved to her temples as she tried to make sense of what she had just seen.

"What are you doing, Becket?" Said a faraway voice.

"Corruption has occurred," said Becket. "We cannot progress any further for the time being. Her senses need time to rest and recuperate."

"Her senses be damned!" Declared the foreign voice. "We need our answers now! If the animus is unable to provide them, then a full brain biopsy may give us just the insight we need."

"That is inadvisable. The human mind is far from being completely mapped. Cadence Bennet is still more valuable alive and unspoiled!" Becket's protest was sharp and unyielding.

Cadence's eyes opened and the blurry image of Becket looking up at the large screen above her bed came into focus. Feeling utterly drained, Cadence found she could barely keep her fingers to her temples let alone rise from the animus. She lazily looked about as Becket continued his debate with the other voice.

"Dr. Vidic made things perfectly clear, 'no unnecessary risks'! This one is my charge and I shall stand by Dr. Vidic's words with regards to her progression."

"Very well…" the voice reluctantly conceded. "We'll begin our search with her little hiding place. But bear in mind our time schedule; we can ill afford any delays."

Becket returned to his console. "You mind your job and I'll mind mine." With a stern tap on his display he ended their conversation. His attention was then drawn to Cadence when she let out an elongated groan. Becket quickly stepped over and helped up into a sitting position.

Cadence tried to speak "Wha….Why do I feel-"

"I'm sorry, but the animus can have this effect. Some experience it more potently than others." He had no trouble in guiding her to her feet and helping her lie down on her bed. "We have yet more to explore of Cecelia's memories, but we can't risk overstraining your body."

"I….I don't…belong.."

He silenced her by placing a hand on her shoulder. "No more. You need to rest now. I will see you again in the morning."

Cadence had no strength to argue or protest. All she could do was quietly submit and begin to fall fast asleep. In the moments before her mind slipped into unconsciousness, she tried to think of all that mattered to her. How was her mother doing? Where was Holly, and was she being forced to do the same thing as her. Would she ever see either of them again?

….Would she ever see home again?

Cadence's breathing steadied and she finally blacked out into a deep slumber...

* * *

Well that's gonna have to be it for now, but not to worry! This will kick up all the more next chapter! Stay with us folks, we're glad to have ya. See ya next time!


End file.
